XVII
WEDDING JOURNEY
On the Black Sea · Jason mood · Arrival in Asia · The hotel in Poti · Kutais· Count Rosmorduc · Reception at Prince Zeretelli’s · National dances · Journey to Gordi · Prince Niko with escort comes to meet us · Arrival at Gordi · Ceremonious reception
I see us next on board the steamship that was to take us from Odessa across the Black Sea to the port of Poti. It was My Own’s first sea voyage in all his life; he passionately loved the sea, had always longed to take a voyage, and now he reveled in the fulfillment of his wishes.
Our goal was the land whither Jason went in his quest for the Golden Fleece. I think there was much of the Jason mood in us both at that time: a mingling of delight in adventure, confidence of conquest, the intoxication of hope. Before us lay a world of things new and surprising; we were going to set foot on a land consecrated by the most classical legends, and experiences which we could not even well imagine beckoned us onward.
We knew that we were expected and should be received with open arms. I had written from Vienna to the Dedopali, and to Prince Niko, who also was at that time sojourning in the Caucasus, telling our whole romance and announcing our visit. A joyous “Welcome” was wired back to us. We both thought it likely that my old friend Niko would secure for My Own a position as aide to the emperor or something of the sort. And altogether we were so inordinately enraptured at being together, our bold stroke had aroused in us such an intense feeling of happiness, everything thus far had gone so sur des roulettes, that we looked forward to a constant increase in our good fortune. One day we should return home in triumph; but it would be a long time before we should want to return home; for the present, out into the wide, beautiful, rich, wonderful world! we were after the Golden Fleece. Nor did we need it—that was the best part. Whatever treasures the world might grant or deny us, we had in each other measureless riches. And My Own felt all this even more keenly than I. He was only twenty-six years old, and this was his first journey into the Unknown. I had already experienced so much disillusionment, and had already, with my thirty-three years, emerged in a measure from that state of intoxication which is called youth; but I caught the contagion of his youthful enthusiasm, and was as childish as he.
After a calm passage our steamboat landed us on the Asiatic shore. A different continent—it fills the comparatively inexperienced traveler with a peculiar pride, a pride upon which old globe-trotters look down with a smile. My Own set his foot on the un-European soil with the haughtiness of a conqueror.
“So,” said he exultingly, “here we are in Asia!”
Whether Asia or Australia, whether earth or Mars, cried the exultation within me, we are together, and that is the main thing.
A messenger from the princess was on the landing-place to meet us. He handed me a letter from his mistress with a renewed welcome and the request that we should delay our arrival at Gordi—the summer residence—for a week, till our hosts, who as yet were still at Zugdidi, had had time to establish themselves in their mountain abode. We were to trust ourselves to the direction of her messenger, who would conduct us to the town of Kutais, where we might put up at the hotel for the time being. So we turned the arrangements over to this factotum, a Georgian steward, who spoke a little broken French. He wore the national costume: long caftan, cartridge shells across the chest, bashlyk on head, dagger in belt.
There would not be another train for Kutais that day, hence we had to spend the night at Poti. The place had only a very simple inn, to be sure, but que faire?—This phrase, adopted from the Russian chto dyelat, often came to our ears in that country; it imports that resignation, coupled with a shrug of the shoulders, which does not so much enunciate the question what one is to do in order to contend against something as intimate rather that nothing can be done.
The inn was in truth very simple: we spent the night in chairs because the beds proved to be too thickly inhabited, and when we wanted to make our toilets and looked for a washstand there was none to be found. I rang for the chambermaid. One appeared in the form of a barefooted peasant with a scrubby beard and a forest of curly black hair. We could not make him understand what we wanted, and called to our aid our factotum, who had also put up at this palace hotel of Poti. Then it was made known to us that the house possessed only one tin washdish, which was carried from one room to another as it was needed, and with it the towel—in what a condition!